The Gunman Who Loved Me
by Milagro Gonzales
Summary: A tale of romance and adventure as told by a woman who's being held hostage in a motel because she's in the wrong place at the wrong time...or is she? Langlyother romance.
1. One for the Archives

Title: The Gunman Who Loved Me

Author: Milagro Gonzales

Category: LGM/007 crossover, Langly/other romance

Archive: If you really really want to but give me a heads up okay?

Rating: Like a Bond movie. PG-13 for mild violence, language, and other James Bond like action. 

Summary: A heroic rescue, danger, and Canadians as told by a woman who is in the wrong place at the wrong time…or is she?

A/N: This is based off the book not the movie the _Spy Who Loved Me _by Ian Fleming. You don't have to be familiar with the book or even James Bond to understand the story.

Disclaimer: AHEM, I neither own James Bond or the Lone Gunmen. The Gunmen belong to the wonderful people at 1013 and the Fox Network. James Bond and _The Spy Who Loved Me _belong to the late Ian Fleming. Now on to the Fic already!

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Subject: One for the Archives 

From: BushMonkey@whitehouse.gov

To: Milagro

Attachment: GUNMANLV.doc

Hey I got this attachment Monday morning it's about Langly.

Kimmy

Subject: The Gunman Who Loved Me

From: Milagro

To: Gandalf@lonegun.org

Nice email address. The attachment is a first person account of a girl Langly met in Michigan last year. I checked it out and she's legit. Mary Pat Doyle is a librarian in Ottawa. I'm putting her story online as kind of a tribute to Langly. 

Milagro


	2. On the Road

Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own the Lone Gunmen they still belong to the people at 1013 and Fox Network, and James Bond is still Fleming's.

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There is a strange stillness about Northern Michigan. Driving up I-75 at three in the morning makes one painfully aware of her thoughts when she hasn't the noise of other drivers, or any other distractions commonplace in the city. The only company she has are the rows upon rows of trees eerily ordered in straight lines by the CCC like giant red-headed soldiers telling crude jokes in the wind.

As single thirty-one year old librarian and an avid self-help and feminist reader I _should_ have known that I _shouldn't_ have been traveling alone and I _should_ have known where I was going before I set out. As a connoisseur of Tolkien, C.S Lewis, and J.K Rowling I couldn't sit in my mum's home in Detroit and watch my dignity be drowned by every single friend, no pun intended, I've ever had who turned the dark side and got married. "Mary Pat when are you getting married?" "Mary Pat, you know Mark has a brother I should introduce you too sometime."

Okay so four hours later my trip seemed very neither literary nor exciting. I forgot the part where Harry Potter stopped at gas station to buy some Maxi Pads and a bottle of Tylenol form a spooky guy who kept looking at his bust. 

The drive did wonders for my nerves, I no longer desired to plunge into the depths of Lake Michigan, and my raging homicidal urges were no longer directed at family and innocent by-standers, only the occasional rude driver and ex-boyfriends. I could have written my own self-help Bible, _Driving Away From Misery to Adventure!._

I really had calmed down, not to the point of going back but to the point of stopping to get a map and a bag of skittles, a normal routine which is a step to recovering from insanity, Dr. Lendy would be proud. I think it is important as I'm writing to stress that I am not an impulsive person with the exception of Boxing Day shopping and buying books in hardcover when I know the next month they'll be out in much cheaper paperback form. This was an extreme case of hopelessness as boy-friend-who-must-not-be-named broke up with me.

It's an obnoxious feeling when a girl's own boyfriend decides he'd rather not come to Christmas dinner but in fact would like to break up with her because all the medications he taken have probably made him impotent anyway making her all the more useless. Then when the girl is left to explain to family and friends that her Nyquil slurping boyfriend has left her and no she did not make him up. "Oh Mary Pat, that's such a lie!" "Really Mary Pat you're too imaginative, a better excuse is he's got a cold or he's married."

It's like the Evil Lord Boyfriend said "Life's hell babe, but only a hell for those smart enough to comprehend it's Hell the rest of them hut idle around in their own filth aimlessly." 


	3. Interlude one

A/N: I re-wrote this entire section, the previous part three was impossible to read, sorry this makes much more sense.-Millie

Disclaimer: AHEM, I neither own James Bond or the Lone Gunmen. The Gunmen belong to the wonderful people at 1013 and the Fox Network. James Bond and _The Spy Who Loved Me _belong to the late Ian Fleming. Now on to the Fic already!

Interlude: Program by Langly, QBASIC WAR

Byers started his laptop in the bus, only to find a blank screen and the suddenly repeating phrase "CAN WE GO HOME NOW!!!!" typeing itself across the screen. He sighed, not like it took a lot of imagination to figure out who had done this. Langly had been complaining since they arrived on this ghost chase. They only spent two nights camping in Northern Michigan and Langly had already had an alergic reaction to everything, and attracted all the Mosquettos in the entire peninsula. Langly showered toxic and probably mind altering poison all over himself and the bugs still wouldn't leave him alone. "If I die of west nile it's on YOUR heads!" he wined about fifty million times in the past hour.

Byers found a way to close the program (it wasn't easy Langly was clearly pissed) and sent Langly an email as, with the exception of complaining about west nile, the two gunmen were not on speaking terms.

To: LORDMANHAMMER Yahoo.com

From: JFBYERS MAGICBULLET .org

Langly,

Very funny. But we can't go home yet, we are very close to proving this ghost is a hoax. I know it's not a big corporate conspericy, but think of the people who have been misled! Who have lived in fear! Think of the service we are doing them!

-Byers

Byers almost jumped at the speed in which Langly replied. He suspected Langly had an automated response set to send a nasty reply to anyone trying to talk sense into him. Byers opened it anyway.

To: JFBYERS MAGICBULLET.org

FROM: LORDMANHAMMER YAHOO.com

Dear Shaggy,

I don't care what a bunck of drunken hics who use the word "aboat" instead of "about" think of a guy in a rubber mask, and neither do our readers!. We aren't frickin Scooby-Doo, and the bus, dispite it's color scheme is NOT the mystery mobile.

I am so outta here. See you back in reality.

-Langly

Byers frowned. "He's hysterical over a few bugs!" he said. But he realized there wasn't much he could do. He and Frohike could finish the story by themselves and return to the lair once Langly cooled off. If he cooled off…


	4. It's the Dear Deerdear

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed I still don't own the Gunmen. Holly Golightly is property of Truman Capote.

A/N this chapter is kind of late, microsoft word is acting up. Thank you Amy for reviewing! I'll try to keep updates more consistant.

The Dear Deer seemed to be my savior that night. The neon sign blinked between saying "VACANCY" and "V CAN Y" beneath it a motto promised "A good 'ole fashion log cabin experience!". I summed up my courage and pulled in the parking lot.

It seemed okay, enough trees surrounded it to evoke my inner Laura Ingles Wilder. I was Mary Pat of the Dear Deer, homesteading it by herself in the American wilderness with only her cunning and forty-dollars U.S to protect her. I liked the sound of that.

Inside the Dear Deer looks like a grandmother's attic. Everything looked second hand. The chairs didn't match by any strech of the imagination, one had a patched up cover the colour of a molded brownie, the other had a white on blue pattern of stain shaped flowers. The walls looked greasy, appearently somebody else realised this and had stuck tacky nick-nacks all over to divert attention.

"Can I help you?"

The speaker was mostly stomach, and not quite, but almost wider than tall with a very round bald face, which, was more then compensated by the hair on his arms. He wore a kind of jogging suit although I doubt that man has ever set foot in the gym in his whole round life.

"Um yes." I said "I-I need a room for two…" I reconsidered my forty dollars, "Just tonight, thanks."

He looked at me, determining weither I was going to steal anything. After a pause he handed me the register.

"Gerald!"

"What?" Said the guy.

The woman who walked in took one look at me scowling.

"You know the policy, cash. up front." Then to me she snapped "Twenty-five bucks."

I imagine with this kind of service they attracted loads of buisness. The woman's scowl never left me as I fished out thirty bucks from my purse. She made change, handed me my five bucks back and flipped the register at me still scowling. I signed the register Holly Golightly which I thought quite clever, I am such a librarian!

"Breakfast is at ten." Said Gerald at last.

"Thanks" I took the offered key for "cabin" seven, the furthest from the front desk. My adveture offically began!


	5. Pearl

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N: I promise the lone gunmen will be in it shortly!

Cabin seven seemed to already be inhibited when I arrived, from a slightly ajar door some punk-boyband screeched out and a cart of abysmally strong cleaning chemicals sat unused. Unused for cleaning anyway. 

"Hey you stayin' here?" asked the girl in the room.

"Um yeah." I said.

She was no more then sixteen and a gerneric adolcent girl. I've seen a dozen of girls like her in the library using the computers to email friends and hanging out to avoid doing any real work.

"'Kay, I'll be done in a sec." She said. 

__

Doing what? She didn't seem to be doing anything, except listening to music. She pulled the cart out of the room carrying faded paperback. I felt kind of guilty when I saw the title. The Scarlet Letter by Nathanial Hawthorne. Ouch. My coscience would eat me alive later.

"That's a good book." I said. 

"Huh? Yeah it is I guess. I gotta read it for class.Kinda confusing."

"Yeah it can be, but I normally recommend it to kids about your age." 

"Oh. Are you a teacher?"

"I'm a librarian"

"Oh. Well, do you know anything about like the symbolism and stuff?"

Never get a librarian started on literature. About twenty minutes later we were still standing outside my room talking about it until somebody screamed for the girl. 

"I gotta go. Can you help me tomarrow, at breakfast?" she asked.

__

Sorry I'm going…where am I going? Leaving seemed so hazy besides it's a librarian's creed to help those in literary distress, well it's an unspoken creed anyway.

"Sure." 

~~~~~~~~


	6. Interlude Two

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Next chapter soon. Almost finished. Thanks for the reviews!

Second interlude:

Hikes Tomb, Ghost or Hoax?

John Byers

Cheboygan Michigan--Annother strange happening in the alleged Hikes Tomb. A pair of local teens were parked by the site in a truck observing the spot. All of the sudden the car stalled, without warning and the headlight started to flash…..

Byers,

This doesn't count as proof! A football player and his cheerleading girlfriend as in a car and SURPRISE the car stalls! Hmmm, Byers you were never a teenager right? I hate to admit it but I should have left with hairboy. CAN WE GO HOME NOW AND ADMIT DEFEAT?

-Frohike


	7. Hazy

Disclaimer: Nope I don't own the Gunmen or The Spy Who Loved Me

A/N: SORRY SORRY SORRY this is so late! One thing lead to another but I have not abandon it! This chapter is really lame but merely serves to set up Langly'e entrance. It'll be much more consistant from here on out

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The next morning I woke up with an emotional hangover, I felt empty and senseless it's akin to taking too much cold medicine and trying to go to work. Even as I write this I'm not totally sure what happened that morning, between the police reports, the newspapers and the lawyers it's been so badly muddled into interesting stories where I have been everything to "Woman Assulted in Cheboygan Inn", "Woman Locked in Hotel Freezer", and my favourite "Canadian Woman in Murderous Motel!" I found it to be a pretty calm morning. 

The woman from the register scowled at me as I passed, I think her face really did stick that way. Her eyes narrowed and fallowed me.

I won't bore you with needless details about the next day. It was filled with essay questions and book discussions in the kitchen with the girl from the night before. In the short time I stayed at the Dear Deer I really felt sorry for her. Her parents were the atrocious couple who owned the motel they scarcely noticed her, I want to say after all that's happened, the hearings and investigating surrounding the Dear Deer, I can't help thinking about what's happened to her…

I disgress, back to the story as it happened. Well we worked all morning until her mother screamed at her to start cleaning the rooms. She invited me along. She turned on the radio opened the doors and windows before she scrubbed out the bathrooms, changed the sheets and vacuumed every single room. 

"Isn't this a lot of work?" I asked.

She shrugged "It's not so bad, it's takes awhile but I get paid for it. Besides there's nothing to do around here. Hey you know you'd look awesome with highlights."

Sudden shifts in subject occur naturally in teenagers, I've found especially when discussing questionable parenting. I wasn't even going to call social services…well not that minute anyway…. It's not like I have it on speed dial…okay press and hold number two on my cell phone. I'm a librarian it's my job to protect the geeks, the unloved, the nerds, the neglected and the kids with no life etc. 

I Know a little about happened in the next few hours. Sometime that day Gerald offered me a job closing the place after New Year's, really easy work cleaning and taking the few customers that came up that way. That's where it goes out, I said yes, but it all blurs after that. My doctor says trauma can do that to a person. Sometimes I just loose my memory of an event entirely until something triggers it. I learned the basics of hotel management, from who might be potential towel theives to how to open the safe. My hair was hi-lighted a chestnut color by the girl. That night was the last time I saw the family. 

When they came back I was supposed to be dead.

Note from Miligro:

Article from the Dear Deer fire:

Yesterday investigators searched the property of the former Dear Deer motel, which burned down last night. Two charred bodies were found inside, one is suspected to be Charlie Lloyd, convicted rapist and former wrestler known as "The Crusher". The other remains unknown. Mary Pat Doyle, 31 was allegedly left in charge of closing the motel when it burned down. She was locked in one of the motel rooms and it is not known at this time how she managed to escape. Arson is suspected. 


	8. Unlikely Knight

A/N: :: sneaks out form the shadows:: I know, I know it's been OVER a year, probably close to two, and I doubt any one reading this is from my original reader. To Amy and Jd, I apologize! You guys were in great! In the past year (two?) I've moved and started life over in a totally new town! I'm just now finding my place again.

Disclaimer: Nope I still own nothing, and I'm still getting paid nothing

Chapter 8

Langly muttered names for Byers his mother would have smacked him for, if she had been in the rental car. Fortunately for Langly, he was finally alone and away from all offending people and bugs. He still had a huge trip home he hadn't planned out at all. Okay he decided a half mile back he couldn't actually _go _home without Byers and Frohike, but damn it, he could stay in a civilized hotel with wireless…that is if they had discovered wireless in the stix yet.

Langly stared out in the flood of rain ahead of him. He couldn't see the road, let alone read the street signs.

"Good thing I have you, baby." he said to the GPS system.

Frohike hated the idea of satellites knowing exactly where he was at what time; Langly just couldn't resist the new toy. "Pretty soon, the government will use that to know exactly when you take a crap you know." He warned. But Langly couldn't find his way out of a paper bag with both ends cut out. GPS was simply divine for getting him in out of paper bags with minimal lostness.

Of course it could only do so much, Langly really needed to stop soon for the night before he introduced Mr. Car to Mr. Tree and ended up in the hands Dr. Underquilfied-Hic at the local hospital.

Langly saw headlights in the rain and the neon lights of what could only be a motel.

"Thank God!" he said as he pulled in.

Langly unplugged his laptop and turned off the GPS. Then, computer case in hand sloshed his way into the main office of the motel. Inside a woman with chestnut hair seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with two incredibly large men. When Langly walked in the incredibly large men looked incredibly irritated.

"Yo, I need a room for the night." Langly said

"We don't got no vacancy, now beat it!" said one of the incredibly large men.

"Man, you should change your sign, somebody might you know, expect a room." Langly said.

"The chick here was just about to turn it off when you came in, now beat it."

The woman's eyes pleaded Langly not to go Langly missed it completely.

"W-We could let him use the phone, you know to call a tow truck!" she blurted.

"Shaddap you. He din say nothin about no phone!"

"But he said his car had broken down outside." She insisted.

Langly looked at the woman cluelessly.

"Well maybe then you should go take a look at his car, since he _can't leave_."

"He got legs," said the other incredibly large man.

"Oh, no! We couldn't make him walk! What kind of people would we be then! We'd never forgive ourselves! We should let him use the phone to _call for help_!"

"It's okay, I have a cell in the car" Langly said confused.

"See he's got a phone, now shuddap."

"Well okay, be sure to _call _someone to _help _with your car. And I guess you'll have to wait here until they come!"

"Nah, I'll wait in the car," Langly was creeped out, what did the woman possibly want?

"Call for help now, you idiot!"

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"That's it, I've had enough outta you!" the incredibly larger man backhanded the woman.

"Hey!"

"Shit Charlie, now he can't leave either."

"So? 'spose to look like an accident right? They'll tink a deranged guest did it."

"Oh yeah! Good idea!"

One of the incredibly large men grabbed Langly and shoved him and the woman into a room and slammed the door.

"Oh nice, now we're both stuck. Master of subtitles aren't you?" She said.

"What the hell are you talking about? You sound completely freaky!"

"I was warning you! We'll never mind, now we're _both _in here and there isn't anything we can do about it."

"It's your fault man!"

She shot daggers at him.

"Okay sorry," he said, "What's going on anyway?"

"Those men attacked me, I thought they wanted to open the safe but they seem intent on staying. I probably should have suspected _something _when the people who worked here offered me a job."

"Gee so your gonna take the fall for all this?"

"Or die here, and I'm beginning to think it's the latter."

"So we're both gonna die?"

"Amazing sherlock! In relatively few clues too! How do you do it!"

"Bite me."

"Are you hitting on me? I must say this is _so_ not the proper forum."

"Hey is that blood?"

They had been so busy argueing nobody noticed Charlie split the woman's lip when he smacked her. She felt the line of blood on her face noe and looked at her hand, smeared with red.

"Shit."

"Hang on," Langly picked up the edge of the white bedsheet and pulled until a long rip slip it. He handed a small piece to the woman. "here, I have no clue how clean it is, it is a motel sheet, probably covered in dried hooker body fluids."

"I'll have you know I cleaned those sheets myself." She smiled.

"Oh, well then I guess you know where it's been then."

"What's your name? If we're going to have the pleasure of dying together, I think we might as well get aquainted."

"Langly."

"Langly? Just Langly."

"Yeah, just Langly."

"Mary Pat."


	9. An overly simplified plan

Disclaimer: same as before. Mary Pat is my baby but the plot is Ian Fleming's, the Gunmen are Fox's and I am still broke and so not intending any copyright infringement

A/N: Sorry I know the POV changes a lot but it was taking to long to have everything happen in Mary Pat's verbose narrative, besides then the Gunmen NEVER would have gotten here. Ohh she the old chapters for shinny new re-writing, if you haven't already!

He wasn't Heathcliff, or the Dread Pirate Roberts. No, I was stuck with an underfed computer geek who reminded me of a dorm mate and I had at university, until he was arrested for computer fraud. At least he had long hair, but it didn't bounce with body and brilliance as one might picture a literary hero. In fact Langly hair hadn't been washed or brushed in days and the bug bites on his face made him look like a teenaged employee of Blockbuster (the one that has actually seen every movie in the store). Not that I am in the practice of judging people, I merely sized him up as a potential rescuer. Then I faced my inevitable doom.

At least I would die in a motel with a man by my side so my friends wouldn't say I had died without love during my eulogy. Actually I spent a lot of time picturing my funeral. My weeping mother with her flavor of the month boy toy. My shaken father and his new, practically statutory wife, smelling like gin and accusing my mother of killing me. And my friends, (half of which hadn't showed up, as they couldn't arrange for baby sitters for their husbands) impeccably dressed and solemn. Oh yes it would take years of extensive therapy to remove the pang of guilt about my untimely demise. Oh and there would be a T.V movie, with many love scenes between Mary Pat and Langly…ew.

"EARTH to…Mary Anne."

"W-what?"

"Hey Mary Sue."

"Mary Pat!"

"Yeah, you like went cationic there. I thought you might have been recharging your lithium battery man. Nagging takes energy."

"So why'd you bother me?"

"If I have to die, I'd like to be from those goons out there, not from you bitching my head off."

"You're a prick."

"Anyway, Princess Pain-in-the-ass, thought I'd inform you we're alone for the night."

"How romantic, shall I slip into something sexy?"

"No I uh meant, we have like four hours of premium escape time."

"And how might I ask, do you know this?"

"While you off in your little fantasy world, I listened through the door," Langly held up a glass.

"Wow boy scouting in action."

"Yeah well this Boy Scout, waited until wingus and dingus out there went to sleep."

"So?"

"So now we do some serious planning, do these windows like, open."

"Yeah, and you can kick the screen open."

"Can you fit through it?"

"Sure."

Langly had the nerve to look skeptical.

"Well any way we jump out the window and run to my car."

"That's it?"

"Um yes?"

I hated to admit it but that was horribly depressing. I could have thought of that, except my mind kept racing to the most daring exit, helicopters, explosions, and floods. I had entirely over looked the window. Langly could have turned the handle on the door and casually sauntered out past the sleeping captors while I conjured how exactly Harry Potter was going to leap off the page and whisk us off to Hogwarts.

"Well?"

"Sorry, I'm coming" I stood behind Langly as she slid the window open. It was very small he punched out the screen and shook his wrist pitifully, before turning ever so gallantly to me.

"Ladies first."

Let me say, in my defense it a VERY SMALL window. I work out at the gym, and my figure is quite desirable for a woman my age, in fact a senior in high school might only have the slightest difference in waistline. I jumped out Hands first and nearly made it…my hips however had other plans. I tried to push with my arms.

"Langly!" I whispered "I'm stuck!"

Langly laughed although he tried to keep it to a whisper and he said. "I can uh get you out."

"Please!"

Suddenly I felt two bony hands on my butt shoving me out the window. I looked like the Winnie-the-pooh stuck half-in rabbit's hole and a minute (an eternity) later I landed face first into the wet grass. Langly squirmed out blushing and he fell, on top of me.

"Sorry! Sorry! I uh, fell! Really!" he said getting up; his panicky voice was rather cute at that moment.

"Don't do that often do you?"

"No…hey!"

I tried really hard not to giggle. "To the Langly mobile." I whispered.

We did not escape at this time. I just thought I'd mention it as not to lead my dear reader on. No, outside was the smaller, as-of-yet-un-named large man. He appeared to be breaking into Langly's car at that moment in particular. If he hadn't seen us, we wouldn't have escaped anyhow, what with getting back _through_ the window, and by the look of the goons, knife in hand, that car wouldn't be able to leave, ever.

"Well look who came out for a stroll." He said. He had the face of a gothic gargoyle someone had smashed the face in on. He had lost many pieces and had the remainder sewed back together. And it appeared one of his eyes I hadn't noticed previously, was glass. "Chicky, you shouldn't be out at night, lotsa creeps out, like me."

"Back off uh…you!" Langly attempted an insult I think. "Mary Kate run!"

"Yeah that sounds like a good idea." I took off, at the fastest speed a librarian has ever run, Langly sprinting close by. I didn't know how long we would run like this, I imagined we duck behind lush foliage and he'd run past. Then Langly and I would sleep in trees and be discovered by forest rangers in the morning, no worse for the wear.

My lungs had a different agenda. They locked and took on fourteen tons apiece. I know I was breathing but my throat wouldn't cooperate. Langly noticed too as I collapsed on the grass. "Margaret! Margaret! Shit." he said, at least my memory insists he called me Margaret. I heard other voices, apparently goon one hollered for goon two. They both ran out.

"Poc---ket," I gasped to Langly.

He leaned in closer, until his hair touched my chest and his ear nearly laid on my lips.

"Say that again." he said.

"Pocket." I'm not sure how I managed to say the whole thing. God likes me or something. As soon as I said it Langly hands felt all my thighs. He was very warm, breathing hard as he reached into my right pocket and fumbled out an inhaler.

"This?" he said but didn't try to make me reply, he put the plastic tube in my mouth and I inhaled, twice. I felt the medicine in my throught, opening the way for air. I took a few harsh breaths before nearly regaining a fast, but nearly regular rhythm.

"Don't do that again, okay?" Langly said, he looked very drained and a mousquetto drank from his forhead but he forced a smirk. I know he meant it as a smile.

That's when wingus and dingus caught up


	10. Memoirs

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, and not mine. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: brief allusion to sexual assault nothing graphic at all but be warned in any case. Thanks Amy for reviewing. J

Langly didn't even look into the woods. It hadn't been a great plan in the first place, but he wouldn't leave Mary Pat on the wet grass to die at the hands of large men! (Even if she was an egotistical bitch.)

"Your…a…complete...idiot!" Mary Pat whispered.

"Wow, most people would say thank you, or take me now you love machine."

Mary Pat clearly didn't believe the latter, but there wasn't much time to debate as wingus and dingus caught up. And one or both of them sent a huge fist at Langly's eye, fortunately deflected by his horn rims, which rather _unfortunately_ fell into the grass.

"Damn it, how'd they get out?" Said the blurry figure of wingus (or maybe it was dingus?)

"This isn't worth it let's pop 'em both now, an torch the place."

"Nah, we gotta wait. It's gotta seem like an accident, two bullet holes in the friggin head don't look like no accident to me."

"Okay, but I get her, that bitch has been nothing but trouble."

The big blur grabbed the Mary Pat blur. Langly ran in the general direction shouting "Hey!" but he missed them and veered off. One of the blurs grabbed him and twisted his arm around his back.

"You sure got some bad taste in men, girly." One the men laughed. "Come on Charlie, it ain't gonna look real if she's all torn up inside!"

"They'll tink he did it!"

"Him? Come on they're gonna know it ain't him he's too scrawny. And they got your DNA on file remember? You wanna go back and finish that life sentence or you wanna git out for good?"

Langly officially realized they were beyond screwed. If these two Neanderthals felt comfortable discussing their plan with Langly and Mary Pat in earshot, in meant no about of ass licking would get them out. They were going to die, in a motel, in Michigan, during an oddly warm winter and be blamed for it. Next to the senior prom this was probably the worst night of his entire existence.

The men blurs dragged Langly and the Mary Pat blur back inside, the moved something from in front of their door and shoved them back inside, but before they left one, or both of them punched him in the stomach.

"Langly?" Mary Pat asked. "Are you alright?"

"Not if my lap top smashed."

"You have a laptop under your shirt?"

"You think I'd just abandon my baby!"

"In a matter of life and death?"

"Yes, and in this matterit saved my life. Man, I wish I could see if they broke anything."

"Here" Mary Pat handed Langly his glasses

"How--"

"I saw them fall in the grass."

"Thanks." Langly's mangled frames dangled from one arm. The lenses looked okay but one side of the frame looked dangerously near self-amputating. Langly put them on and opened the lap top case, the case within the case and the padded insert.

"Little paranoid?"

"You don't know the half of it. This baby's designed for war biking, you know looking for an unsecured wireless connection while in a car is called war driving…."

"I know what war driving is!"

"Anyway, the computer is fine."

"Oh good, I don't know how I would have gone on living otherwise."

Langly booted up. And sat on the bed.

"No chance they left us the phone line?" he asked.

"Cut before they even came inside. And it seems they've nailed the windows now too."

"Damn."

"Um Langly, are you going to let that black eye swell?"

"What? Um."

Mary Pat walked into the adjoining bathroom and came out with a wet washcloth.

"The ice machine, is outside of the room but this should work. This is what civilized people use instead of ripping bed sheets."

"Thanks." Langly's stared at his screen and took the washcloth without acknowledging Mary Pat.

"What are you working on."

"Huh?"

"Working. On. You. What. Are."

"I'm documenting my last days for future generations, mainly future generations of detectives. How tall wold you say wingus is?"

"Which one's wingus again?"

"Never mind."

"Well, I see you've excepted death reasonably well."

"Occupational hazard."

"What's your line of business? Heroic rescues?"

"Yeah sometimes."

"And the rest of the time?"

"Investigative reporter for The Lone Gunmen."

"You're a reporter? You don't uhh look much like one."

"Yeah well you look like you're a politically inclined Canadian librarian."

"I'm a librarian for parliament in Ottawa."

"Bad example."


	11. Heroically Challanged

Disclaimer: See other chapters.

A/N: Mozilla is the coolest browser ever, I use and love it! and the wireless thing is entirely possible. J Again thanks to Amy for reviewing.

Langly continued typing away all night, quite impressive for someone who has barely been a captive six hours. I woke up and found him behind the desk, keys chattering glasses askew. He looked up and beamed.

"'Morning Mary Beth."

"Mary Pat."

"Right. Take a look at this!"

I stood behind Langly and looked at the screen, a perfectly normal ordinary desktop with a perfectly normal Mozilla browser window open…browser window? We had internet! Oh what a glorious marvel wireless internet is!

"Langly, this is incredible!"

"And slow. It's dial-up, ironically from a DSL provider's website."

"E-mail the police, the FBI, the RCMP!"

"Slow down, this is only ethernet. But if your interested I can get you the credit card numbers and home address of every Tom, Dick and John Gilnitz in the area."

Langly continued typing away.

"Wait, here." Langly typed a URL into the screen. "Bingo."

"What?"

"This website, it looks like an insurance company, is connected to the other website, but it has a crap-tac-ular firewall. We're on the internet."

"Langly, I love you!"

Langly smiled and his broken glasses, black eye, mosquito ridden face and tangled hair actually looked heroic. Yet, like the morbid children's stories of Lemony Snicket, things began take a most unfortunate turn.

Interlude three

Byers packed away his laptop and camera defeated. Frohike and Langly knew there was no story to be found in an urban legend.

"Ready to go?" Frohike asked.

"Yeah. But what are we going to print?"

"Maybe Langly's got something."

"Or he's filled the bath tub with calamine lotion and hasn't moved."

"There's a story, Pink Hippie Slime Man Found in Tub."

"Or Man Drowns in Calamine Accident."

"Fowl Play Suspected."

"What fowl play Frohike?"

"My hands around hairboy's neck when I strangle him for sitting on his ass all weekend while we drove home."

Byers figured Langly was still pissed, he tried to call the lair and no one picked up. He might still be driving back to Maryland. Byers powered down his laptop, before he saw his inbox, with an email form Lord Manhammer.


	12. A Plan Revealed

Disclaimer: Same as before except I don't own Carrie, Stephen King does.

A/N: The plot thickens…muhahahaha. Thanks as always to Amy, your reviews are wonderful.

Chapter 11

"This is interesting." Langly scrolled through a list of businesses in the insurance company's database. "The motel's in here, but that's not the weird part. What do you think this place is worth?"

Mary Pat shrugged. "Couple thousand…"

"That's not what it's insured for. They have a huge fire insurance policy for a cheap motel in the stix."

"Langly, incase you haven't noticed this place is made of wood." Mary Pat patted the wall for emphasis.

"Wingus and dingus, did they take any money from the safe?"

"No. The owners emptied it before they left."

"You didn't tell them that did you?"

"No, they didn't even ask about the safe."

"And we know they intend to blame out murder on us."

"Arson?"

"Yeah, like we broke in and lit the place up."

"And the owners get…"

"A fat insurance check, and wingus and dingus get a nice cut too."

"No finger prints, just two extra crispy lovers…I mean that's what they'll assume."

Langly went back to typing as Mary Pat sat on the bed, sniffling. It's one thing to suspect death, it's another to know exactly how and why. The suite had a gas fire place. It would look like Langly and Mary Pat had a romantic rendezvous when the room exploded.

"Hey," Langly looked up. "Were uh…not dead _yet_." Like most men, Langly felt unsettled by feminine crying. "Hey I have some…business associates in the area, they'll believe we're in trouble. I have friends at the FBI too." He put a hand on Mary Pat's shoulder "don't give up, I've been in worse situations."

"Like what?"

"I went to senior prom. They crowned me king when some kids poured pig's blood all over me. I lost it and killed them all with my telekinetic powers."

Mary Pat giggled "Oh really Carrie?"

"Yeah Stephen King changed some things for the book, and don't get me started on the movie. Does Sissy Spacek look anything like me?"

"I think I would have preferred being Carrie to my actual senior prom."

"Same here."

"_You _went?"

"Not of my own free will, took a hell of a beating afterwards from some guys. Look." Langly pulled back his hair and traced the outline of a scar above his ear. Sixteen stitches."

"Oww, and I thought going alone was bad enough."

The light hearted conversation broke with the door opening and slamming into the wall, followed by a large fist and a flushed face covered in…was it snow? It wasn't much, just a few flakes melting off his forehead into his eyes.

"You git over 'ere now!" He pointed to Mary Pat.

Langly pulled her protectively, and unconsciencely towards him.

"Damnit, I ain't gonna hurt her."

"Oh well in that case…no." Langly, intoxicated by a hero's complex ignored the realization that he had just told a large, dangerous, and homicidal man off. "Sorry I'll speak slower so you get this; fuc--"

Mary Pat pulled away from Langly "I'm not letting you take the easy death." she muttered as she walked over to the door.

"Girlie, you got more sense then your girlfriend on the bed over there." He pulled Mary Pat's arm and slammed the door.

Langly screamed obscenities and pounded at the door. Then he went back to his laptop; he had to get them out of there.


	13. James Bond did it better

Disclaimer: Yadda Yadda Yadda not mine

A/N: Thanks to Amy again for reviewing! J

I wasn't being as altruistic as I seemed. I did not want Langly's neck twisted around into a most unnatural shape but, I also had a pretty good idea wingus and dingus wouldn't kill me in any obvious way. I guess it's a benefit of knowing the cover-up story for our deaths, that and reading through the library's extensive collection of mysteries.

"You took long enough! I'm starvin!"

"Err sorry Charlie, it was'n easy gittin throu that blockade ya put in front o' ther door."

"Jus, git to it already."

"Yer heard 'im girlie, go make breakfast."

They honestly made me cook breakfast. The lobby attached to the owners' personal apartment, which had a stove and a microwave. The stove had some burnt on goo, I believe to have been egg in a former life and the sink had the unfortunate pan that had witnessed the catastrophe, and now lay with thick black crust along the inside and mysteriously the handle.

"Coffee an eggs, don't mess it up!" Charlie barked.

So I made coffee, slowly. Measuring precisely the right amount, least I put in one too many grounds. If I messed up I started over. Then I made scrambled eggs, light and fluffy from extensive whisking along with leisurely buttered toast, slow fried bacon and oatmeal with exactly forty-eight raisons a bowl. With wingus and dingus watching my every move.

"Damnit! What's takin so long!"

"Quality takes time." I said without turning around.

I prayed Langly had gotten his e-mails through and the FBI and RCMP were on there way taking every helicopter, tank, airplane, horse and Ford Taurus they could get a hold of. I also prayed Langly hadn't taken a detour to download porn.

"Okay, breakfast is ready." I said pouring orange juice from the fridge.

"mmmke mmmer mmmcke mmmoo mmmhe mmmmooo."

"Err wat did yer say Charlie?"

"Take 'er back ta da room moron!"

"Why d'I have ta do it?"

Charlie gave him a look that ready because-you-are-my-underling-you-worthless-twerp and grumbling he took me back, with a tray of food, to my room.

"Here yer go. Oh an a tanks fer breakfast. Too bad it's the last one yer gonna make. We could really use ya."

Langly ran over to me nervous and elated at the same time.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Just peachy. Toast? I brought breakfast."

"So while I did the hard part, you were playing Martha Stewart to our captors?"

"For your information if I hadn't gone they would have wrung your puny neck like….like a well something puny and pathetic!" I was indignant if unimaginative.

Sweaty from the heat of the oven, I popped the first button on my shirt, and somewhere on the way back the second and third decided to fallow. Despite the fact I looked like hell, my hair was mess and my shirt had an interesting polka dot pattern cutesy of breakfast, and the fact Langly looked substantially worse. He kissed me. Langly blushed so bright I wondered if every capillary in his body had ruptured.

"I-uh-uh-uh"

"Did you get the email sent?" I asked with a ditzy smile.

"Uhh yeah um…over there on the…thing."

"Computer?"

"Yeah that thing."


	14. Librarian's Cookbook

Disclaimer: They aren't mine.

A/N: I wouldn't recommend trying this at home. Thanks Alani and Amy for reviewing

From between the boards on the window we watched the snowfall outside, any minute our rescuers would arrive. Any minute now. Yes, we would be rescued in mere minutes. Any time now. Why in a moment we would be saved.

"Maybe it's the snow that caused a delay." I said.

"Definitely the snow." Langly said.

"Or they're setting up. After all we're hostages, they won't us to die in the crossfire."

"Sure."

"They aren't coming are they?"

"Nope."

"We're going to die a slow miserable death aren't we?"

"Yep."

The snow came down in light fluffy pieces; it was very serene except for sheer number of fluffy pieces. They fell to the ground creating layers of snow in minutes; a sight I'm quite used to in Canada, except Yankees in my experience can't clean up snow. I supposed our rescuers had decided it simply too cold for rescuing and turned around. In the meantime Langly and I waited for death.

"How long do you think we have?"

"Whenever the bastards feel like it they'll take us out."

"Langly, when I said 'how long do you think we have' I meant 'say something to make me feel better'"

"We have time for some really great we're-gonna-die-sex."

"I meant something reassuring."

Suprisingly that did make me feel better. _I'm going to die, but I'm flattered an unsentimental computer geek finds me attractive…oh God, we really are doomed._

"Can't we _do_ anything? Like break down the door and garrote our captors with dental floss."

"I'm a computer genius not MaGuiver!"

"I know!"

"What?"

"We could like make weaponry with stuff from the room!"

"We're going to complementary-mint them to death?"

"No, I have a cart of cleaning supplies, and as you so cleverly discovered, we can rip bed sheets."

"Molotov cocktails…. Jesus, what kind of librarian are you? I thought you like looked up environmental law or something."

"Are you going to ponder my ulterior motives or help me?"

"I fear what you'll do to me if I don't."

So we sat on the floor, like kids doing arts and crafts, except instead of kids it was a mild-mannered librarian and a dorky investigative reporter and instead of macaroni shakers we were making Molotov cocktails…okay bad analogy. We ripped sheets into strips and but them in bottles of cleaner. Don't get your hopes up; there's a reason people use gasoline and not alcohol, as far as weapons go they were meant for distraction purposes only. When we finished we had three half full bottles of cleaner with fuses and two aerosol cans, if we were going to die, we would wingus and dingus with us.


	15. Inept Spies and other misfortunes

Disclaimer: If I owned the Gunmen the show would still be on the air, at least 20 times a day seven days a week. If I owned James Bond I'd be rich.

A/N: As alawys thanks Amy and Alani. This chapter is a bit of a tease sorry, but I promise, explosions are comming ;-)

Langly and I waited by the door listening to the noise in the hall. I had a lighter clenched like a stress ball in my hand.

"Right, one of the idiots is coming, get ready." Langly said.

I tightened my grip on the lighter until I was pretty sure the design would be permanently imprinted in my skin. We heard tables and chairs being pulled from the front of our door, and some very nasty cursing. Then the doorknob turned.

"FREEZE!" I said. "Or we'll blow this place to kingdom come!"

I held out the lighter and a Molotov cocktail for empathizes. Langly whispered "nice" under his breath.

"Jesus Christ girlie!" the goon said.

"Take us to Charlie." Langly said, aerosol can aimed and ready. "Now!"

"Okay, okay! Just don light that ting, okay? This was all Charlie's idea anyways."

We fallowed him down the hall feeling importiant and dangerous like spies, only not very good ones because we really didn't have a plan. That's about the time the panic set in, as I realized _we didn't have a plan_ once we reached the room. But it was too late. Charlie sat on a couch that had seen better days flipping through T.V channels. The room itself looked amazing, a bottle of champagne was out by a bed covered in light pink rose petals. Light music played from a CD player. I listened, Pacabel's cannon, played sweetly by a string quartet. From the slightly ajar bathroom door I could see a drawn bubble bath surrounded by unlit cream colored candles. Then I saw the fireplace. I saw my own death played out over and over in my head. It was like being in a nightmare, a pleasantly scented nightmare.

"Okay both of you, get over by the wall. NOW!" Langly said.

"Wha the hell is this?" Charlie barked.

"A change of plans," I said. "So move now or…um else."

"Jesus, okay okay. We won move." Charlie said.

"Good…now Langly will um…Langly?"

We stared at each other for an awkward second.

"Okay, you go get some rope and I'll like stay here." Langly said.

"Right."

"Mary Pat?"

"Huh?"

"The lighter?"

"Right." I tossed it to Langly.

I walked out of the room without any sort of notion of where I was going to find rope. It would be really helpful if creepy motels, summer camps, pools and wooded areas came equipped with practical emergency supplies, like rope, phones, chainsaws, hockey masks, knives, kosher salt and holy water. That's when I heard screaming and Langly ran out of the room perfectly livid, shaking the lighter.

"Why is this empty?" he yelled.

"Oh." The realization hit.

"Oh?"

"I'm trying to quit smoking so I took the lighter fluid out…to remind me."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"If I remembered I wouldn't have emptied it as a reminder remember?" It had, in my defense, sounded like a really good idea at the time.

"It looks like plans have changed again don cha tink?" wingus and dingus smiled.


	16. The Pool

Disclaimer: I neither own the Gunmen or the plot of this story, pity me ;-)

A/N: The big finale is coming in just one more chapter! Thanks Amy for reviewing, I almost forgot to post this chapter ;-)

Langly and Mary Pat searched for an escape as wingus and dingus approached. Mary Pat threw the unlit Molotov cocktail shattering glass and lemony freshness at her captors. Langly used the slight delay to spray them in the eyes and run like hell.

"Now what?" he said.

"Well….at least we can smell them coming now…"

"Hired killers, now in fresh pine or lemon scent. It's catchy."

"Hang on a sec." Mary Pat ran behind the counter in the lobby and rummaged through the drawers. Here! Let's go."

Langly shrugged and followed Mary Pat out the back of the motel into the snow. From behind they could hear their disinfected killers cursing and catching up. Mary Pat walked through the snow as if she didn't feel the cold or the searing wind in her face. Langly felt any minute he would suddenly fall down and die of exposure and left for wild bears to eat. Then some bear would be walking around in hornrims until he made the front page of a tabloid but not as a dead conspiracy theorist, but as a near-sighted bear found in northern Michigan.

Mary Pat stopped by a long building with a sunroof and unlocked the door.

"Finally." Langly said going inside, only to find it was colder inside.

"Langly? We've only gone a few meters."

"What is that like….four thousand yards in US measurement? Where are we anyway?"

Mary Pat locked the door. "Pool room, the heat isn't on because the hotel doesn't have any guests." Mary Pat flipped on the lights, which reflected off the water with a sinister ripple. "It will take awhile for it to heat up but we can hide out here."

"Until they break the glass and come to kill us."

"Honestly Langly, you're really depressing, you know that?"

It was true. Langly looked around, all the walls were glass and now it was lit up like a big blinking neon sign that said "Langly and Mary Pat are here!" not that it mattered, they left enough foot prints any one could follow. Where was Byers? Frohike? Mulder? Scully?

"Hey, if you're really cold, there is a sauna." Mary Pat broke his depression stream of conscience. "I keep that one running." Mary Pat winked.

"Mary Pat I love you!"

"That was abrupt."

"It looks like we won't need the lighter after all, do you know where they keep the chlorine."

He smiled.


	17. Fin

Disclaimer: Last time I checked I did not own the Gunmen or The Spy Who Loved Me.

A/n: Thanks Amy for reviewing, I'm really glad you're safe from Hurricane Charlie! And there just may be another story in the works ;-)

Two sets of bloodshot eyes peered into the darkness. Both men's skin stung from the antiseptic and the cold. One man held a large pipe, the other a revolver. All plans were off, this wasn't about looking like an accident; it was a matter of pride. Had it been so long that no one feared the sound of his name? _Crazy Charlie_. College girls used to avoid parties, least he be waiting outside. They carried mace and pitiful pocketknives. It didn't stop him; it only slowed him down. He would get _her,_ the bitch that sprayed him. He didn't care if they had his DNA on file; she needed to fear him.

"Uh, Charlie? Youse sure they're in there?"

"Yeah, they can't git anywhere else, they're in here."

"Now?"

Charlie nodded and his accomplice swung the pipe through the window. The only sound was the shattering of the glass into the room and the howling of the wind. The man with the pipe looked worried. People were supposed to make noise.

"Ya tink they split?" he said.

Charlie didn't answer; he simply stepped inside, crunching the glass beneath his massive feet. His partner followed cautiously. The dim light outside lit the water just enough so they could make out the tips of the ripples.

"Look for da lights." Charlie said.

Byers rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared out at the road ahead. Frohike drove on silently down the deserted highway. He opened his laptop and turned on the radio and waited for an internet signal.

Clicked his inbox.

He read Langly's email, words cascading through his mind. _Hostage. Arson. Fraud._

"Frohike, turn around!"

"What?"

"Turn around, Langly's about to be murdered!"

Mary Pat held Langly's hand, but I didn't stop the shaking. He'd explained everything to her but that didn't make it any easier. The sickly sweet smell of the chlorine stung her nose and throat but she wouldn't allow herself to cough. Reassuringly Langly put his arm around her. She buried her face in his tangled hair.

His eyes adjusting to the dark, Charlie looked around. His partner looked over from the other side of the pool.

"I tink I found the lights!" He said.

In the Cheboygan police department Officer Davenport came into the chief's office. He looked very pale.

"Sir," he said, "It's the Feds."

The lights came up suddenly. Langly stood with Mary Pat in front of the sauna, with the door wide open. Both men ran for them. Langly threw a ran onto the rocks in the sauna, he held Mary Pat and…

The rag caught on fire…

The fire spread to the floor….

The chlorine ignited….

K

A

B

O

O

M

!

The police arrived with the Gunmen just in time to see the gigantic flames consume the building like a fireworks display, sparks and debris blew in all directions. The fire trucks raced ahead only to find it was mostly out in seconds save a few smoldering patches. Byers and Frohike ran to the scene. There was nothing left but the swimming pool full of ash.

"Oh my God," Byers said.

"Langly." Said Frohike

They could only stand there, unwilling to accept the situation before them.

Mary Pat heard the distorted sounds of sirens. It occurred to her she couldn't see anything around her but thick black ash. She wanted to call out to Langly but she couldn't, she realized sooner or later she would have to take a breath.

Out of water came two very loud gasps and too very cold bodies, clinging together, coughing. Some one yelled "over here" and suddenly several arms reached out, over the dirty water. Mary Pat coughed and sputtered out ash and water, until she felt the piercing cold air in her lungs, it hurt but in a wonderful holy-crap-I'm-still-alive way. Medics wrapped her and Langly in blankets and hurried them to a waiting ambulance, shooing away confused police officers. Langly held Mary Pat's hand all the way to the hospital.

Note from Milagro:

Mary Pat and Langly were questioned at the hospital, they explained the planned cover up and Langly showed the computer files (he e-mailed them to Byers) to the police. It ran as the cover story for the February edition of the Lone Gunmen. Mary Pat returned to Canada and a few weeks later to Langly went to her apartment to ahem help write a follow-up. He supposedly stayed the night, but that is just speculation ;-)


End file.
